


Mage

by Bunnywest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, BAMF Stiles, Established Chris Argent/Peter Hale, M/M, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Sex Magic, Spymaster Peter Hale, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Threesome - M/M/M, royal chris argent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 21:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Peter fixes Chris with a firm look. “You know damn well that since your father got sick, Kate’s been trying to gather enough forces to take over your part of the kingdom. And now that she has Deucalion’s troops backing her, it’s only a matter of time. I say we bring in a Mage, and see if there’s a protective spell we can use. It doesn’t have to be Deaton. There’s someone else I’ve heard about.”  Peter hesitates. “He specializes in the Old Magic.”Chris looks incredulous. “Nobody does the Old Magic anymore.”“This one does. He’s extremely powerful, apparently, is able to control it better than anyone in years. Keeps a very low profile, though.”





	Mage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AylaTheBunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AylaTheBunny/gifts).



> This is for aylathebunny, who bid on me in the fandom cares auction. She asked for Fantasy au stetopher with King Chris, Spymaster Peter, and Mage Stiles.  
> I know, right? What a great prompt!  
> P.S. I know nothing about magic, I made this shit up.

 

“We need to call a Mage,” Peter says firmly. “Otherwise your sister will overrun us.”

Chris groans at the thought. “Are you sure? They’re only rumors. She might not attack. I don’t want to bring in a Mage if I can help it. I don’t trust Deaton – he plays everything far too close to his chest.”

Peter fixes Chris with a firm look. “You know damn well that since your father got sick, Kate’s been trying to gather enough forces to take over your part of the kingdom. And now that she has Deucalion’s troops backing her, it’s only a matter of time. I say we bring in a Mage, and see if there’s a protective spell we can use. Not Deaton, though. There’s someone else I’ve heard about.”  Peter hesitates. “He specializes in the Old Magic.”

Chris looks incredulous. “Nobody does the Old Magic anymore.”

“This one does. He’s extremely powerful apparently, is able to control it better than anyone in years. Keeps a very low profile, though.”

“How do  you know about him, then?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Please, Christopher. I’ve been your Spymaster since the day you took the crown, yet still you doubt me? I’m wounded by your lack of faith.” He folds his arms and turns away from Chris.

“Hey, sweetheart. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just amazed at the way you find things out. Come here and give me a kiss?” Chris cajoles. Peter pretends to pout before he turns around grudgingly and leans in for a peck, but he’s not fooling anyone, least of all Chris. “Now, stop talking about state business. I didn’t call you into my office to talk about work. There are better things your mouth could be doing,” Chris says, unbuckling his belt.

Peter smirks, as he asks, “Is that an order?”

“You know it is.” Chris pushes his trousers down.

As you wish, Highness,” Peter purrs as he drops to his knees.

 

* * *

 

Chris thinks about what Peter’s said, later when he’s alone. He knows his Spymaster is right. They need to do something. When his father, King Gerard, had seen that Kate and Chris would never be able to rule together, he’d summarily split the kingdom between them, declaring he’d oversee them both. Kate, always greedy, had insisted on a bigger territory. Chris had agreed, on the condition that she leave him alone. The agreement had been signed, and for ten years there’s been peace. But with his father’s illness, there have been ever increasing whispers of a plan to take over. And that, Chris won’t stand for.

His territory is small, but it’s peaceful, prosperous. His people are loyal to him. He doesn’t have a queen, but he has Peter. They’ve known each other all their lives, played together as small boys, and it seemed only natural as they got older to turn to each other to fulfil their needs. As Peter pointed out to Chris the first time he dragged him to bed at seventeen and blew his mind (among other things), “My father’s the Spymaster, and yours is the king. It’s not like we can trust anyone else, so why don’t we just do this till you get married off to some princess?”  Chris, who was lying there panting, eyes rolled back in his head after the best orgasm of his short life, couldn’t think of a single reason to say no. And somehow, no princess ever quite caught his interest. Twenty years later,they've never found a reason to stop. It works for them.

There’s an unspoken knowledge among the palace staff, and they never, ever interrupt when the King is meeting with his Spymaster, not for anything. They learned that lesson early on. But Chris is a fair ruler, and nobody begrudges him his happiness.

Chris is leery of magic generally, but in this case he has no choice.  He’ll trust Peter’s judgement, and he’ll meet with the Mage. He’d rather not send his people out to be slaughtered if he can prevent it. Even if it means some old man droning out spells and burning herbs, making the castle smell like feet. He sends for Peter, and when the man arrives, he says “Send for him. I’ll meet him, but I’m not promising I’ll use him.”

“Yes, Highness,” Peter says, head bowed deferentially. Chris isn’t fooled. He knows that beneath the veneer of respect, Peter’s gloating, and the only thing stopping him from doing so openly is the presence of the guards. They do try and maintain some level of discretion, even though Chris suspects they’re not all that successful.

 

* * *

 

 

The man that shows up three days later is… not what Chris expected. There are no old robes, no silver hair. Instead, he’s _young._ Barely in his twenties, Chris suspects. He grins cockily even as he kneels and bows low, forehead to the floor, and Chris can’t shake the feeling that the Mage is mocking him, somehow.

Chris lets him stay there longer than he probably should, taking the opportunity to look the young man over without his knowing eyes on him. He’s broad across the shoulders but lean muscle everywhere else, and he has an array of tattoos visible on his neck and arms, long twisting lines of runes and sigils. He wears plain black trousers and a sleeveless shirt, and he’s undeniably attractive. He’s barefoot, tousle headed, and it doesn’t look like he’s made any effort at all to impress the king. Chris can’t decide if he’s offended by that, or impressed at the young man’s confidence. Finally, he says “You may stand.”

The young man does, and Chris is struck by his height. He’s still grinning, mischief dancing in his eyes, but there's something else too, an unmistakeable air of raw power. Peter steps forward then, taking the young man’s arm and leading him towards the throne, looking far too pleased with himself. “Your highness, may I present Mycz-“

“Stiles. Call me Stiles,” the young man interrupts. Peter shoots him a look, but Stiles shrugs. “Names hold power, and since I don’t know if I can trust you yet, I’d rather you not know mine.”

“Peter knows it. I could just command him to tell me,” Chris points out, slightly irked.

“You could, but then I’d know I definitely didn’t want to help you. You do need my help, right? That’s why I’m here?” His tone isn’t insolent, not exactly, because that Chris wouldn’t tolerate. It’s more forthright than anything. Obviously Stiles isn’t swayed by rank. Chris locks eyes with the young man, and they hold each other’s gazes, feeling each other out. Chris has the sneaking suspicion that the young man, _Stiles_ , is getting far more from this than he is. 

Chris lowers his eyes, just briefly, and when he looks back up Stiles is wearing an expression of satisfaction. “You’re right, _Stiles_. Peter tells me you know the Old Magic, and you may be the solution to our problem.”

Stiles nods in acknowledgement at the use of his preferred name. “It depends what you want. Do you want to attack your sister, or defend yourself from her?”

“Defend,” Chris says immediately. “I want no unnecessary bloodshed.”

Stiles smiles at that, warm and genuine, and Chris feels a frisson of _something_ run through him at the way it makes the boy even more beautiful.  “Well in that case, we can probably work together, if I deem you worthy. I don’t believe in killing for killing’s sake.”

“I assumed as much, or you’d be working for my sister,” Chris says with a wry smile.

Stiles’ expressions sobers. “Be aware, the Old Magic can’t be done with just herbs and chanting and painting runes over your doors. It a little more…primal in nature. You may find yourself unable to fulfil the conditions. Tell me, highness, how far are you willing to go to save your kingdom?” He tilts his chin back and stands, hands on hips, almost challenging.

Chris raises a brow at that, at the sheer hide of questioning his willingness to protect his people. “Anything. I’ll do anything if it saves my people from Kate and her killers.”

Stiles looks at him, considering. “You know, I think you probably would. Give me some time to work out what you need, and when I’m ready I’ll let you know. For now, I’d kill for a hot bath and a meal.” He looks at Chris expectantly.

Peter steps in then, saying “Why don’t I take Stiles to his rooms, let him rest and freshen up, and we can discuss the specifics later. Highness?” He looks at Chris, waiting for his approval. 

When Chris looks more closely at Stiles, he can see the slight bags under his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. He doesn’t know how far he travelled to get here, but he’s clearly tired, he’s just doing a good job of hiding it. “That sounds like a good idea. Go and rest, and tomorrow you can tell me more.”

“Yes, Highness,” Stiles replies, in a tone that’s barely pretending to be respectful.

Before they leave the room, Chris beckons Peter over. “You post a guard, and you make sure he doesn’t wander around unsupervised. I don’t want him lurking in doorways,” he murmurs in an undertone.

“Fine, but do you really think I’d have sent for him if he wasn’t trustworthy?” Peter replies just as quietly.

“Better safe than sorry. Post the guards.”

Stiles waits by the door, an amused expression on his face as if he knows exactly what they’re saying. Perhaps he does. Chris can never tell, when it comes to magical types. Maybe that’s why he’s so cautious. He sends them on their way, and wonders about the wisdom of this.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter comes to his chambers that night. He knows Chris well enough to know that he’ll be second guessing himself, and he’s right. He walks in the door and pulls Chris in for a kiss, rough and demanding, before Chris can even open his mouth, and walks him backwards to the bed. Chris is taller, all lean muscle and power, could stop Peter easily, but instead he lets himself be manhandled till he’s lying on his back and Peter’s straddled over him, holding his hands flat against the blankets as he kisses him breathless. When they finally part, Peter leans down close to his ear and whispers, “You need to trust me on this, Christopher, and stop thinking so hard.”

He sits up, lets Chris’ hands go, and Chris promptly grabs him by the hips, rocking against him. “I trust you. It’s just…. not what I expected. He’s cocky. He lacks respect for the throne.”  He sounds petulant, even to his own ears.

Peter throws his head back and laughs. ”Christopher, are you feeling insecure? _Lacks_ r _espect for the throne_ , honestly. I don’t think you understand exactly how powerful Stiles is. Trust me when I say, that boy could destroy you with a snap of his fingers. We’re lucky he’s even agreed to be here.”

Chris knows he’s right, could feel the raw power rolling off Stiles in waves. “Fine,” he grumbles. 

Peter leans in and kisses him, soft and slow, and says “I’ll tell you what, highness, if it will make you feel better, you could exert some authority over your favorite spymaster.”  

Chris smiles at that, and flips them so that Peter’s under him. “My favorite? You sure about that, baby? Cause I gotta say, that Mage, he’s disrespectful, but damn, he’s fine looking.”

Peter grins up at Chris. “Please. As pretty as he is, we both know you’re mine, sweetheart. Now hold me down, and fuck me hard.”

Chris does as he’s told. He generally does, when it's just them.

 

* * *

 

 

Chris invites Stiles to breakfast with him the next day,  and he notes that Stiles looks much more well rested this morning, and the sleep seems to have knocked some of the rough edges off him.  He’s a little more open, and he appears to have lowered his guard enough that he’s willing to talk.  Chris comments on the tattoos that cover Stiles’ arms.  “Are they just for decoration, or are they are a part of your magic?”  Chris asks, his eyes drawn to the ink.

“A little of both. Some of them are for protection, some of them are for strength,  some of them detect threats. And some of them are camouflage.”

Chris raises a brow. ”Camouflage?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’ve run across people before who think if they remove the runes, they can take my power. So, hide the real thing among the decoration. Needle in a haystack, am I right?” Chris has to admit, he can see the logic of that.

“Would it though? Strip you of your power?”  He remembers what Peter said, that Stiles could destroy them all with a snap of his fingers.

Stiles looks likes he considering it. “It would…inconvenience me,” he says at last. “Assuming anyone ever managed it successfully.”

“Do I want to know what happened to the ones who tried?” Chris asks.

“Probably not while we’re eating,” Stiles concedes, and Chris can tell that he’s deadly serious.

“Well, they’re certainly striking,” he says.

 Stiles grins widely. “Wait until you see the rest of them.”

Chris doesn’t know what to say to that, but he’s saved from replying by Peter’s arrival. “Stiles, how did you sleep?” he asks, with a nod of his head to their guest.

“I think I want to marry that bed,” Stiles replies, and Peter chuckles. He takes a seat at the table, and they engage in polite small talk as they finish eating.

Afterwards, they move into Chris’ office. He pulls out a map that shows the territories. “This is my sister’s part of the kingdom. Word is that she wants to take over the whole thing, and that Deucalion’s willing to back her, in return for her help taking over the McCall lands. “

Stiles nods. “I’ve heard. Deucalion sent someone to ‘ _fetch me’_ to help with the campaign. They were apparently instructed not to return without me.”

Peter tilts his head. “Let me guess. They fulfilled their instructions.”

There’s something savage about Stiles’ expression as he says. “Technically. Deucalion didn’t send a second messenger.”

He turns his attention to Chris then. “So, your main priority is to protect your borders?”

Chris nods.” I’m not sure if you can, honestly. It’s a big area. Is there even a spell that could do that?”

Stiles looks at Peter. “You’re right. He really doesn’t think much of us magical folk, does he?”

Peter sighs. “I’ve tried to tell him. Please forgive him. It’s inexperience, rather than disbelief.”

Chris bristles a little at that. “Careful, Hale,” he says, giving Peter a withering look.

“Apologies, Highness. I  meant no disrespect.” Peter winks, which completely destroys any illusion of remorse, but Chris feels his annoyance leave him anyway. Peter always could play him. Peter turns to Stiles. “What do you think? Can it be done?”

Stiles hums, looking at the map, tracing his finger absently along the lines marking the border. “Yes,” he says at last. “I can surround you completely, and anyone with ill intent will be unable to cross your borders.”

“Really?” Chris says incredulously.

“Well, I can as long as you’re willing to take part in the casting.” Stiles looks at him, and there’s a speculative expression on his face. “As I said yesterday, it’s the old magic. It requires some of the more primitive elements. You might not be willing.” His eyes are roving over Chris’ body  as he speaks, and he steps forward, until he’s mere inches away. He lifts a hand and drags his thumb across Chris’ bottom lip slowly. “You’d get to see the rest of my tattoos.”

Chris’ breath catches in his throat. “What exactly would I need to do?”

 “We’d be using sex magic –  it’s more powerful than blood magic, even, because blood can be taken without permission, but this only works with a willing partner.”

Chris raises his eyebrows, but after a second he nods. “So, I’d have to sleep with you as part of the spell?”

“More specifically, you’d need to let me penetrate you as part of the spell,” Stiles says bluntly. “Could you do that?” He’s still standing close, and Chris can feel the power rolling off him, can smell ozone in the air, taste the tang of magic on the tip of his tongue. He casts a glance over at Peter, who nods imperceptibly.  Chris leans forward and presses his lips to Stiles’, a chaste kiss, just to catch the taste of him.  

Stiles slips a hand around the back of his head and holds him there as he deepens the kiss just a little, just enough that Chris finds his lips parting and his head tilting. Stiles is a good kisser, and Chris can’t help the small noise he makes when Stiles pulls away. “Yes,” Stiles says decisively. “You’re prepared to yield to me. That’s the key, to lay with the ruler of the land,  and for them to submit willingly.”

Chris licks his lips, chasing the taste of the Mage. His voice is rough as he asks, “When?” 

“Keen, are we?” Stiles says with a smirk. “Not so fast. We still need to discuss payment.”

“Name your price. I’ll see if I’m willing to pay it.”

Stiles folds his arms across his chest and looks at Chris for a long time. “After we cast the spell, you feed me and house me, for as long as I wish. In fact, the rooms I have now should be suitable.”

Chris nods. "You’d be welcome to serve in the royal household.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Oh, make no mistake, _Highness_. Just because I’d be living here, doesn’t mean I’ll serve you without question. I really do just want a home base, and if you need something, we’d negotiate, just like we’re doing now.”

Chris furrows his brow. “Peter told me you like to keep a low profile. How is staying in one place doing that?”

Stiles sighs. “The wanderer’s lifestyle only holds its charm for so long. And what better place to stay than a kingdom where I know that nobody who means harm can cross the borders?”

Chris has to admit, he has a good point. “You’re a smart one.”

“Not just a pretty face,” Stiles says with a wink. “So, do you agree?”

Chris hesitates, looks at Peter. He knows it’s the best way to prevent a war, to  protect the borders, but he still feels bad for his lover. Peter catches his expression, and pipes up, “Of course he does.”

Stiles’ gaze flits between them, and he nods. “It will take me a few days to get everything ready. I’ll tell you when it’s time. In the meantime, I want free reign of the castle, and no guards. Fair?”

“Fair,” Chris agrees.

Stiles takes his leave, and the silence between Chris and Peter draws out, until finally Peter snaps out, ”Oh, for goodness sake, you look like your grandmother died. Do you think I care if you have another man’s cock in you, if it will save the kingdom?”

 _Damn him_ , thinks Chris. Peter knows him too well.  “You know if there was any other way…”

“Well, there isn’t. So you can stop pouting, and do what you need to do. You _are_ the king, right?” Peter pulls Chris in for a rough hug. “So you’ll do your royal duty, and afterwards you’ll come back to me, and I’ll do things to you that will make you forget your own _name_.” If his voice breaks a little as he speaks, neither of them mentions it, because they both know that really, they don’t have a choice.

 

* * *

 

 

Chris thinks about backing out, briefly. Peter can see it in his eyes, so he drags him out of his rooms and down to the kitchens. The staff are used to him coming down, and after they’ve been settled out of the way with a plate of cakes and cups of tea,  they’re pretty much ignored.  Chris sighs quietly, eyes downcast. Peter nudges him. “Look around.” Chris does, and sees Heather, his cook, laughing and teasing one of her assistants about her upcoming marriage to her sweetheart.

“If we go to war, Chloe’s new husband leaves her,” Peter says in a low tone. “And Heather’s husband. Her daughter’s in the army too, did you know that? They’ll all go and serve, and they’ll do it willingly, for you.” Chris shoots him a glare.  Peter ignores it and continues, unperturbed. “The people in this kingdom will do anything for their king. And you have the chance to stop a war before it begins, and you’re thinking twice about it?”

Chris sags as he lets out a sigh. “ I know. But I don’t want to hurt you.” He looks at Peter, and asks, “You’re really okay with this?”

“Am I okay with you taking part in a magical sex ritual, knowing that you’re not emotionally invested, knowing that it will stop your nightmare of a sister in her tracks?”  He takes Chris’ hand. “I’m fine with it, Highness.” And when he puts it like that, says he’s okay with a soft smile on his face and Chris’ hand in his, Chris believes him, absolutely. Peter’s always been the pragmatic foil to his more idealistic leanings.

The next few days both fly by and crawl interminably, Chris can’t decide which. Peter comes to his bed at night and kisses him filthy sweet as he slides his hands under Chris’ shirt and undresses him, teasing him irreverently and laughing as he beds him, just as he always has, and it’s that more than anything that convinces Chris that he really is okay with it. “Hell, if he’s any good, we could see if he wants to bed the both of us,” Peter says with a gleam in his eye, and Chris knows he’s only half joking. Peter’s always been the adventurous one.

During the days, Stiles spends time with Chris, discussing exactly how he wants the spell to work, and Chris is forced to reassess his initial evaluation of the young man. Stiles isn’t disrespectful of the throne, as such. He just has what Peter approvingly calls a _healthy disregard for formality_ , and an attitude to match. But when it comes to his magic, he’s deadly serious, all traces of levity gone as he discusses the best way to protect their small kingdom. Chris knows, deep in his gut, that he can trust Stiles absolutely, even if the Mage has taken to calling him _Your Hotness_ as Peter snickers at him.

After four days, Stiles seeks him out. “Everything’s ready. Are you?”

Chris squares his shoulders, and reminds himself that Peter’s fine with it. “Of course.”

Stiles looks at him, humming under his breath, before he extends his hand, asking, ”May I?”

Chris nods and extends his palm. Stiles takes it, closing his eyes and breathing deep. Chris can feel a tingling under the skin of his fingertips as Stiles holds his hand. Stiles opens his eyes, and Chris could swear he sees them flash, just for a second. Stiles smiles brightly at him and says, ”Everything’s prepared in my rooms. I thought it would be better than yours, since I’ll be painting runes on your body. Nobody wants ink on the royal bedlinens.”

He leads Chris gently away by the hand, saying “Shall we, Highness?”

 

* * *

 

 

Stiles leads Chris to his suite. On the way he says casually, “Collect Peter, set him to guard the door. We don’t want to be disturbed, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

Once they get inside his suite, he hands Chris a goblet filled with a deep burgundy substance. “Is this part of the ritual?” he asks, eyeing the contents suspiciously.

Stiles picks up his own glass and fills it. “No, it’s part of your excellent wine cellar. I thought a glass or two might relax you, along with something to eat.” Chris sees that there’s a  platter with cheese and figs and cured meat on the table. Stiles follows his glance. “Did you think I was going to ravage you as soon as you waked in the door?”

“Something like that,” Chris admits.

Stiles shakes his head. “We have all the time in the world, and the least I can do is buy you dinner, since I’m about to sully your virtue.”

Chris laughs aloud at that, deep and throaty, and Stiles grins. Chris drinks the wine and they eat together as Stiles explains what the ritual will entail. It’s far simpler than Chris anticipated – Stiles will surround them with earth from the kingdom, he’ll say the spell, he’ll paint the runes on Chris’ naked body, and then he’ll fuck him. Chris takes  another gulp from his glass. “At least tell me you’ll make it good,” he says wryly.

Stiles looks him in the eye. “Hey. This is about you, submitting willingly, but your pleasure affects the magic. The better the sex is, the stronger the resulting spell.“ Chris eyes him dubiously. “I’m serious,” Stiles tells him. “You’re going to enjoy yourself, I promise. Ideally, I want you laid out and begging for me, and I know just how to get you there. Trust me?” Chris nods.

Stiles slides one hand under the hem of Chris’ shirt. “Let’s get this off”, he murmurs, and his hands are warm and confident on Chris’ skin.  Chris  lifts his hands and Stiles guides his shirt off over his head. Once he’s standing bare chested, Stiles slips his own shirt off, and Chris takes a breath in when he sees the extent of Stiles’ tattoos. As well as the runes and patterns on his arms,  there are rows of interlocking circles running down his ribs, chunks of text in an unknown language across his pecs, and a series of short lines running down each collarbone. Stiles sees him looking, and smirks. “You like?” 

Chris does like, and he grins broadly.

Stiles leans in for a soft kiss, and Chris doesn’t know whether it’s his magic, or just Stiles himself, but there’s a tingling, and he feels himself relaxing as Stiles presses his tongue inside. They kiss for long minutes, and Chris closes his eyes and surrenders himself to it as Stiles runs the tip of his tongue along the inside of his mouth. Stiles finally pulls away, murmuring, “Aaand there we are. _Now_ you’re relaxed for me.” He turns and leads Chris over to the bed, and Chris sees the riot of tattoos on his back.  They’re seemingly random, and Chris remembers what he said – _camouflage_. He wonders about the tiny fox that’s draped over one shoulder, about the spiral that spreads out from the centre, about the straight row of planets, about the compass.

As they reach the bed, Chris puts a hand out and runs it across Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles makes a pleased noise, and stands still. Emboldened by his response, Chris runs the hand down his neck, and that draws a guttural moan out of Stiles. His skin seems to fizz and pop under Chris’s fingers, the magic responding to his touch. Stiles shudders, and turns. “You’re already in tune with my magic. I think this is going to be very satisfying, for both of us.” He undoes Chris’ belt, and pushes his trousers down. Chris takes the hint and undresses, Stiles stripping his own clothes off at the same time.

“Is there anything I need to do or say?” Chris asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “Just relax, and follow my instructions. This is all about submitting your will to the magic.” He spreads a circle of  soil around the bed and then lights a dozen beeswax candles. He grabs a stick of chalk and scrawls half a dozen runes on the floor, muttering as he does so.

“OK, highness. I need you to lay down on your back, arms out straight, legs spread, and stay as still as you can. I’ll paint the runes on you now.”

Chris obeys, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, willing himself to relax. The ink is cold against his skin as Stiles paints the marks on him, working his way down one arm, then the other, then marking both thighs before straddling Chris and starting to apply the runes to his chest, muttering in some ancient dialect the whole time. Chris loses himself in the feeling of the brush as it leaves swoops and whorls across his flesh, breathing slow and steady, anchored under the weight of Stiles spread across his thighs.  He opens his eyes when he feels a palm cupping his cheek, to see Stiles looking down at him.

“Just one more thing,” Stiles says quietly. He carefully paints a line on each cheek, as he recites the words of the spell lowly. “Perfect,” he breathes out, and then he bends down and kisses Chris, not soft and slow, but greedy, hungry.  He stretches his arms out and anchors Chris against the bed, holding his wrists in place, as he continues to kiss him, tongue delving deeply into the king’s mouth. Chris opens wide for him, lets Stiles explore his mouth, tastes his breath, sweet from the wine . _Willing submission,_ he reminds himself, but if he’s honest, Stiles’ muscled young frame pressing against his makes it hard to be anything other than willing.

Stiles tugs at his earlobe gently with his teeth, and then kisses his way down his neck. His lips are soft and plush, and Stiles’ breath on his neck sends a shiver down Chris’ spine. Then Stiles goes back to kissing him as he brings one hand to Chris’ chest and brushes a thumb across one of his nipples. Chris lets out a tiny sound, and wonders how Stiles knew he was sensitive there. Stiles ducks his head and starts kissing and sucking at the nub, until it’s swollen and hard. Chris moans again, and Stiles raises his head and grins. Chris can feel where Stiles is hard against him, rocking his hips so that they brush together. He feels himself hardening as well, and Stiles slips a hand between them, encouraging his erection with a smooth, firm palm wrapped around his length.

“That’s it,” he breathes, and speeds up his strokes a little.

Stiles spends what seems like hours to Chris kissing him, teasing his nipples, rubbing his hands over his body, grinding against him, apparently on a mission to draw every sound from him that he possibly can, and Chris can feel his arousal building, looming  like a thundercloud. Then he takes Chris in his mouth, searingly hot and moist, lips like velvet as he slowly slides up and down, and Chris pants out, “Please.”

Stiles huffs out a soft laugh, and says “Very well, your hotness.” He moves from where he’s sitting, settling himself between Chris’ legs, nudging his knees up so that Stiles has access to his hole. He picks up a vial of oil, pours it liberally over his hand, and then takes Chris’ hand and slicks that up as well. “Stroke yourself, but don’t come until I say”, he instructs.

He proceeds to open Chris quickly and expertly, long, nimble fingers slipping inside easily, and Chris closes his eyes and takes long, deep breaths, as his hand slips up and down his cock slickly and he feels himself loosening easily under Stiles’ touch. It’s not long before the mattress dips as Stiles moves around, getting himself into position. Chris opens his eyes to see Stiles gazing down at him, cheeks flushed and pupils dark with arousal.

He feels the blunt head of Stiles’ cock as it presses steadily forwards, and pops inside. He makes a tiny, shocked sound, but Stiles doesn’t hesitate, pushing all the way in with one long stroke.  He draws back out slowly, and then starts fucking in with more purpose, the slap of flesh on flesh loud in Chris’ ears. It feels good – Stiles is bigger than he’s used to, and he welcomes the stretch, the way it makes his nerve endings sing. Chris wraps his legs around Stiles, and urges him on, Stiles managing to hit that place inside him that makes everything quiver. Stiles picks up his pace, and Chris hears a hitch in his breathing as his thrusts become more urgent. His own hand is speeding up, stroking himself rapidly, and he can’t help the grunts he’s letting out every time Stiles slams into him. “Close,” he pants out in warning as he feels his balls draw up tight.

Stiles drives into him harder, gasping out “Come _, now!”_  and Chris does, with a cry of relief. Stiles follows him seconds later, making a guttural sound from deep in his gut. Chris feels the runes on his body warm for a moment, then the heat fades as quickly as it appeared.

They lie there panting for a moment, and then Stiles dips his finger into the come that’s cooling on Chris’ belly, and draws a pattern with it. He looks at what he’s drawn for a moment, before saying “Huh,” and sitting back on his heels. He regards Chris steadily for a moment. “The spell’s not as strong as it could be.”

Chris furrows his brow. “What? Why not?” He can’t help but ask, ”Did you do it right?”

Stiles folds his arms. “I cast the spell perfectly. But it seems there’s a missing element – we need the other ruler to make it really effective.”

Other ruler? An appalling thought strikes Chris. _“_ Not _my father?”_

Stiles laughs, long and loud.  Chris doesn’t see anything funny about this – his kingdom’s at stake, for god’s sake. But then Stiles gives him one of those gorgeous grins, and says “You don’t rule alone, highness. You do realize that, right? I was talking about Peter. I suspected as much, which is why I had him stay close, and the magic confirms it.”

“Peter doesn’t rule –“ Chris starts to say, but he stops when he sees the amused look on Stiles’ face.

“Really? So who’s idea was it to call me here? Who did you look to for permission for you to go ahead with this? Who’s the dark to your light? I mean, you _are_ lovers, right?” Stiles waits patiently.

“Oh,”  Chris says quietly. He thinks of all the decisions he’s made at Peter’s urging, of all the nights spent together. He casts a glance at Stiles. “I didn’t realize you knew.”

“Only because I’ve been lurking in doorways, and your staff like to talk,” Stiles says, and his expression is gentle.

“Does this mean the spell hasn’t worked?” Chris asks, suddenly concerned.

Stiles snorts. “Please. my magic’s more powerful than that. We could leave it as it is, and it would still hold. But with Peter, we double the effectiveness. So, what do you think?  Shall I fetch him?”

Chris remembers what Peter said, about wanting both of them to bed the mage, and he nods, still a little dumbstruck. Stiles climbs off the bed, still naked, and opens the door a little, just enough to call “Peter? We need you.” If Peter’s surprised when he comes in the door and sees them still both naked, he shows no sign of it, instead hurrying over to Chris, all concern.

 “Is something wrong? What do you need?” he asks, evidently worried.

Chris reaches out and takes Peters’ hand, before leaning in for a soft peck on the lips. “Apparently the magic is much stronger if the _other_ ruler of the land takes part. That’s you, sweetheart.”

Peter’s mouth hangs open for a moment before he says faintly, ”Well, I suppose that does make sense. “ He strips off his shirt and starts to undo his trousers. 

Chris extends a hand, catches Peter’s wrist. “You don’t have to do this. The magic will still stand.”

Peter smiles at him, the soft smile he saves for when it’s just them. “Anything for you. And it’s not like you’re asking me to do something difficult. Have you _seen_ our Mage?” He smirks as he turns to Stiles. “What do you need me to do?”

Stiles already has the brush and the ink in his hand.

 

* * *

 

 

Chris thinks that Peter's never looked more beautiful. He has markings painted on his body, and his head’s thrown back in a gasp as Stiles rolls his balls gently in his hands, tugging lightly just the way Peter’s always loved. He’s making the soft mewling noise that means he’s close, and when Stiles licks a stripe up his cock, he bucks wildly. Stiles is grinning as he continues to lick at Peter’s cock, before taking it all in his mouth. He has a hand on Peter’s hips to steady him as he sucks him down, and judging from the whimpers he’s making, this won’t take long.  Stiles seems to sense it, because he pulls off and murmurs “Ready?”

Peter nods frantically. Chris has three fingers buried deep in Peter’s ass, gliding in and out smoothly. Stiles had asked Chris, “Would you prefer to leave, to  watch, or to join in, Highness?”, and Chris’ voice had been rough with want when he’d replied “Join in.” He’s spent the last half an hour working Peter open, making sure to rub over his prostate with his thick fingers, just to hear Peter moan. He’s always been loud in bed, and Chris has always loved that about him.

Chris removes his hand and rolls off to the side, tangling his fingers with Peter’s as Stiles lines himself up. Peter lets out a soft curse when Stiles breaches him, and his grip on Chris’ hand tightens.  Stiles wastes no time, plunging in deep, setting a steady rhythm. Chris wraps his hand around Peter’s cock and starts to stroke it the way he knows Peter likes, all the while murmuring, “Doing so good, baby. Gonna lay there and take it, let him fill you nice and deep?”

Peter makes affirmative noises, turning his head so Chris can kiss him. Stiles is holding himself up on strong arms, hips pistoning in and out, breath quickening. His rhythm starts to falter, his thrusts becoming choppy, and he grunts out, “Peter, _now_.”

Chris speeds up his strokes, Stiles drives home with a grunt, and Peter comes with a bitten off cry.

The magic flares, and this time it _pulsates_ , the power undeniable.

Chris could swear he sees the fox tattoo moving. The runes on his chest and face heat up, and a feeling like electricity runs through his whole body. Stiles’ eyes flash, the tattoos on his arms glow, just for a moment, and there’s the sharp tang of metal and ozone in the air. When Chris looks at Peter, he can tell by his expression that he’s experiencing the same thing. The runes sit warm against his skin, not burning, just heated. Chris leans over and pulls Peter into a deep kiss. When they part, Stiles has pulled out and is watching them, a smug look on his face.

“It’s done,” he declares. “Your borders are protected. Anyone with ill intent trying to cross them won’t be able to pass.”

“What will happen to them?” Peter asks, reclining in bed, still looking freshly fucked.

“The first time? They’ll run into a barrier, literally. It will make them lose consciousness, and they won’t be able to set foot in the place.” His grin turns a little sharp, then. “The second time they try, the barrier will bite back.”

“Bite back how?” Chris asks. 

Stiles shrugs. “Honestly? It’s tied their intent, so I can’t tell you exactly what it will do. It won’t kill them, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not the second time.”

Peter cocks a brow at him. “Third time’s the charm?” he asks pointedly.

“Third time’s the charm,” Stiles confirms.

Chris looks between the Mage and the Spymaster. “You really are a ruthless pair, aren’t you?”

“Somebody has to be,” Peter observes, and Stiles nods his agreement.

Chris is suddenly painfully aware that he’s naked and just fucked, and so is Peter. He turns to Peter, worried that he might have felt forced into this, but Peter can read him well enough by now, and he’s quick to reassure him. “Christopher, you can stop thinking whatever it is that has you frowning like that. We’ve protected the kingdom. Wasn’t that the goal?” When Chris goes to open his mouth, Peter says, “And trust me, sweetheart, I _really_ didn’t mind getting taken apart by the two of you. Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind a repeat performance. Perhaps without the ink next time,” he adds, looking down at his chest with a frown.

Stiles smirks, and says, “Well, I wouldn’t object either. Maybe I could be on the receiving end.” He takes in Chris’  open-mouthed expression. “Maybe it’s something you two need to talk about first, then get back to me? I don’t think we’re in any state to discuss it right now,” he says with a grin, gesturing at their naked bodies, smeared with ink and come.

He’s right, and so they leave it, for now. Stiles wipes them both down with warm, damp towels, and then climbs into bed between them, and all three of them lie there drowsily, wrapped up together. They’re still in bed when the first report comes in hours later of someone dropping like a stone when they tried to cross the borders.

 

* * *

 

They do talk about it, though.

Later that night, when Chris and Peter are in bed together, and Peter’s fulfilled his promise to make Chris forget his own name, he broaches the subject. “So tell me Christopher, did you enjoy yourself with our magical friend?” he asks, as he runs his fingers idly through Chris’ chest hair.

“Mhmm. Did you?” Chris counters.

“You know I did. After all, you were there.” His tone is non-committal as he says, “You’re not going to start acting all jealous now, and run our favorite mage out of the kingdom?”

Chris lies back and thinks about it, as his hand runs through Peter’s hair. He knows he should be upset, but somehow he’s not. Something about Stiles draws him, he can’t deny it, and he suspects Peter feels the same. “No.” he replies finally. “I’m not jealous. Watching you and Stiles together was… you were beautiful. And I’m definitely attracted to him,” he replies honestly. After a moment he says, “I’d like to do it again, the three of us.”

Peter pulls Chris in for a kiss, deep and filthy. “Oh sweetheart, I was hoping you’d say that.”

 

* * *

 

 

The people of the Argent kingdom love their king. He’s wise and just, and he rules them well. He somehow avoided the war they thought was coming. So if there are whispers that he has two lovers now, well, nobody really minds.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow, this now has a sequel.  
> [The Quickening](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15270573/chapters/35422914)


End file.
